In winter sere

IN winter sere, 
We little men o' the hill 
No longer duck and peer 
Up holy daffodil. 

Nor suck the egg 

That the cuckoo lays, 

Nor the angry leg 

Of the chafer wring 

Till the gray-pate sing 

With his stiff amaze : 

No, no, no, no 1 
To keep ourselves warm in row 
We run — ta, la, la, lo ! 

A valley's end 
Is steep and flat at the top, 
No pathways there may wend 
Across the sweet-fern crop  

As dead as straw ; 
At the sign-post wiy 
All the winds see-saw, 
And with chilly feet 
We little ones meet 
On the rim of sky. 
We start, stay, go, 
And down to the pool below 
We mn — ta, la, la, lo !